


Interlude B21

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [179]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Gay Sex, Heaven, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Police, Recovery, Shock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 04:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ Particle physics, pained policemen - and pernicious plotting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts).



**Heaven**

_“Finally!”_

God smiled as His wife sat back and popped another chocolate into Her mouth. Quite a few of the less pleasant families down there might doubtless be wondering how their boxes of Celebrations just happened to be missing all the Maltesers and Bounties.

“Yes, we can now truly say that our little angel has become a man”, He said.

“Sixty-four times so far this month!” She agreed, missing His wince. She paused thoughtfully them smiled as there was a distant ding from the next room. “Make that sixty-five.”

God sighed. That pinging noise from Her counter-thingy every time their son sounded just like an oven when it was don.... no, that was so not a good analogy.

“It will probably never be a good time to have this conversation”, He said carefully, “but we seem to be missing an archangel?”

“That would be Raphael”, She said airily. “I sent him somewheres.”

He frowned.

“You mean that you sent him some _where?”_ He asked.

“No, definitely some _wheres”,_ She said magicking up another Malteser. “Fourteen thousand, eight hundred and sixty-nine somewheres if I recall. I may have been a trifle Annoyed at the time.”

An unwise spouse would have inserted a snarky comment here, but God was one of those Supreme Beings who quite liked that thing called existence so He refrained.

“What are the chances of getting him back together again?” He asked.

“Well”, She said, “I did once read a theory that everything comes back to where it started sooner or later. We shall just have to wait and see if that applies to annoying whiners who want to pick on sweet darling little cutesy-wootsy angels like my beloved Castiel.”

“I suppose that we will”, God agreed. “Any chance of a Galaxy? The mini bar, not that horrible truffle.”

֍


	2. Chapter 2

_[Letter from Superintendent Jacob Peters (retired)]_

_Re: certain recent events concerning the occupant of Number Seventeen Haywood Terrace, Hitchin_

_Dear Chris,_

_You asked for my thoughts about how a recent arrival to my old stomping ground patch seems to have been more than a little unlucky, and if I thought there was perhaps more to it. Hertfordshire has certainly seen a lot of Mr. Ranulph Angelis, an unpleasant fellow – I can see why you felt the urge to go have a bath after seeing him - so I'll run through the events he's been whining about to the top brass and then tell you what you can do about all his complaints (hint: nothing)._

_As everyone who can read a newspaper knows, Mr. Angelis is the very publicly disgraced son of Sir Charles and Lady Holmes in London. Sir Charles is all right for a toff but she – the wife read me that story of hers about the church choir hit by a spell and I still feel iffy every Sunday. I mean how can a lady know about.... and those choir stalls aren't that big, I mean..... ugh! Though bearing in mind she put four of our constables in hospital perhaps I can see it. Poor Flinders is mortified at the way she took him down; he never expected any lady to grab him there but the doctors say he can think about having kids again once the swelling has gone down._

_Then there was that thing with the beggars. We don't normally have much of a problem out here in the country but Mr. Angelis kept whining that they were suddenly after him everywhere because, he said, 'their Queen had told them to'. I think he'd been on the beer too much._

_I also think it was just coincidence that those repair works the council men did on the road not far from his house led to his newly-installed flush toilet running back. Could have happened to anyone, and even better it did happen to him. And his saying the chief foreman was actually a red-headed woman he'd seen in London – beer again._

_Then there was that visit from that horrible brother of his – odd name starting with an 'M'; can't recall it just now - one of the few people I've met who's as oily as he is. Someone nicking said brother's carriage and then using it to run the former owner into a ditch as he walked back to the station was maybe a bit off, but we do get crime in the county. It could have happened to anyone. Perhaps them taking the horse and setting fire to the carriage afterwards was a bit rum, though._

_The good news is that the moaning minnie is moving from the area as apparently his mother is reconsidering whether she was too kind to him in only putting him in hospital for six weeks (I vote yes provided she doesn't come down again in person; it doesn't do morale much good when four of your best men get put in hospital like that). Apparently the last straw for the moaner was when he came home the other week and found someone had stolen every single item of furniture from his house, including the toilet would you believe? Now he'll be some other poor blighter's problem._

_Don't forget to remind tour brother to apply when that post in Bedfordshire comes up next week; I've had a word and unless he shoots someone on the interview panel it's his. See you down the pub next Saturday,_

_Jack'._

֍


	3. Chapter 3

_[Narration by Miss Charlotta Bradbury]_

I was worried.

People don't think about such things, but when you run an information business like I do you end up getting a pretty sharp understanding of human nature, and in particular how that brain thing works. And from what Doctor Watson told me when I 'accidentally' bumped into him (I think that even he saw through that as Mayfair is not that close to Baker Street) and asked after his friend, something was wrong with Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Although from the way that the doctor was limping, not _totally_ wrong!

I also called on Sherlock's brother Lucius who, if truth be told, did not look that much better. All that stuff about a young love keeping you young – he had trouble standing and that Sandy fellow of his really could tone down the smirking a notch or four despite looking quite handsome for a fellow. But what was left of Holmes Secundus did agree with me that unless Sherlock showed some signs of getting back to normal on his own then we would have to Take Decisive Action.....

֍


End file.
